"Yes, but they're terribly stuffy. Can't say I enjoyed it much. Think highly of themselves, the whole lot of them. They look down on us, you see. I must say, my views on the homeland has quite changed since I actually spent some time there. All the old rules and traditions. Stupid structures from the dark ages. For what? You were right, you Americans, breaking away."
Emmeline hadn't intended on starting a conversation about politics; she had simply sought a change the topic of conversation. "Well, we like to think so," she said.
Percy bit his lip as he watched her. Again, she had an uncomfortable feeling that he was thinking things he shouldn't. Well, he would learn that she wasn't welcoming to anything of that nature. She might not have means, but her favors were not given out at parties, or any other time.
"What is that man doing here?" Mrs. Thornton's sharp voice cut in. "Did you invite him?"
Percy groaned. "Yes, mother. He is our neighbor."
"He is not the sort we want here. Why have you done this Percy, gone against my express wishes?"
"Because he is an important member of this island, and we need to do our bit to get along."
"And what are you doing here?" Mrs. Thornton demanded, turning to Emmeline.
"I... I was just getting some air." Emmeline slipped away before either of them had a chance to say anything else, returning to the brightly lit salon where the crowd provided protection from any inappropriate, unspoken queries or accusations.
With the arrival of Percy, Emmeline's relationship with Mrs. Thornton had worsened, and then there was Percy himself, who she now felt uncertain about. Things would get infinitely worse for her if Percy turned out to be problematic. Hopefully, her behavior had put him off, quelled any idea that she would welcome any kind of assignation with him.
Lord Cresswell seemed to note her return to the room. He watched her from where he was standing with a group of men. Emmeline returned to her seat, discomfort coming from every direction.
Returning to the room, Mrs. Thornton sought company with a group of similarly aged women, clearly enjoying herself despite the unwanted guest in the room. A bit along, two younger women were whispering intently and Emmeline felt left out. Mr. Chiswick had moved on to entertain another young lady with his wit and anecdotes. His friendliness had been typical for everyone he met, apparently.
The women here had made it clear that she would never belong in this company. Her presence was tolerated by nature of her position, but she would never be a part of their discussions. Feeling like an outsider was something she was used to. Growing up, it had been hard not to when seeing parents dote on children, but she had never felt quite so lonely as she did here, sitting in a room full of people. A sense of failure added an extra layer of forlornness.
It took Percy pointing out how pitiful her situation was for her to truly see it. She was a complete outsider here and no one particularly wanted her.
With a deep sigh, Emmeline pulled out a small crease in her glove. Her mood had darkened and now it felt awkward to sit along the edge of this room, being ignored by everyone. It was getting late, so she could conceivably retreat for the evening. It might be seen as rude by some, but who was going to notice?
Rising from her chair, she slowly walked from the room and out into the hall again. To her immense relief, Percy wasn't anywhere to be seen. A noise made her turn sharply, fearing to see him, but it wasn't Percy, it was Lord Cresswell.
"Running off?" he said, dry, bored amusement in his voice.
"I... " she started, not really knowing how to finish. Should she admit that she was?
"You seem to have a habit of doing that, running off and getting yourself into trouble."
"I was actually retiring to my room. Hardly an act of terrific peril."
A half smile tugged on the corner of his mouth. "Too stalwart for a party?"
It didn't matter what she said to him; she was always too something, she suspected. He received pleasure from pointing out her shortcomings.
"In fact," he continued and Emmeline steeled herself for whatever he said next. "I am leaving myself. I've had my fill of Mrs. Thornton's poisonous looks. Besides, this gathering is too sedate for my liking."
"Then why did you come?"
"To explore something." What was there to explore at a party?
"Then I hope your time was fruitful."
"It has been interesting." He parted his lips slightly as if he wanted to say something else, but thought better of it. Instead, he inhaled and straightened, bowing his head almost imperceptibly before turning to the main door and walking out. Emmeline watched him go. For all Mrs. Thornton thought of him, he was a curious man. Emmeline felt she didn't entirely know what to expect whenever he addressed her.
When he was out of sight, she quickly made her way to her room, locking the door behind her.
She wouldn't undress in case she was needed, but at least in here, she felt as if she could breathe. She didn't know what felt worse, being observed by someone, or not being observed in the slightest by everyone else.
Heavily, she sat down in the chair by her desk, again wishing she had someone to write to. To not give into wretchedness, she pulled over her book and began to read, trying to take her mind off the continually curious conversations she had with Lord Cresswell. For a moment, she wondered if Mrs. Thornton would least prefer to witness her talking to Lord Cresswell or Percy. The woman had made up her mind that she was intent on Percy's attention when nothing could be further from the truth. Percy was well safe from her intentions.
At times, she would hear people in the garden outside, talking and laughing. Those lucky people who had somewhere to belong, someone to enjoy themselves with. They didn't have that great uncertainty hanging over them, that feeling of being lost in the world.
Time ticked by and Emmeline kept on reading until a soft knock rapped on the door. "Miss Durrant," the voice said. Even though very slurred now, she knew it was Percy. "I wish a word."
Emmeline closed her eyes, convinced words were not on his mind that moment. It seemed the party had mostly died down now. The chatter wasn't quite as even, although there were certain individuals who were louder than before.
Percy knocked again. "Miss Durrant? Are you sleeping?" He chuckled. "Open the door."
Biting her lips together in dismay, Emmeline sat still until she heard uneven footsteps walk away. She might be utterly alone, but she wasn't stupid enough to open that door, risk herself being abused by a drunken lout. Both the convent and the school was very good at keeping such behavior away from them. As had Mrs. Thornton—until now.
Yes, her situation had infinitely worsened, it seemed.
Chapter 18
A commotion drew Emmeline's attention and she left her room to see what was happening. Percy stood in the hall with rivulets of blood down his head from a cut on his brow. His clothes were scratched and torn.
"What happened," Mrs. Thornton said, running from the parlor.
"I don't know. I fell," he said, fruitlessly wiping away the blood with his fingers. It made it worse.
"Oh dear," Mrs. Thornton said. "Oh dear." She swayed slightly, her face losing all expression as though she would pass out any moment. In fact, she was passing out. Emmeline moved to grab her as she started sinking to the ground, but she was so heavy.
Joseph appeared and grabbed her under the shoulders, heaving her to a chair.
"I'll grab her salts," Emmeline said, rushing into the parlor to where Mrs. Thornton usually sat. Her salts were in a conical silver case with a small lid. Mrs. Thornton had never used it before as far as Emmeline had seen, but seeing Percy bleeding was enough to make the woman faint. "Here," she said as she returned and stuck the salts under Mrs. Thornton's nose. She revived immediately and pushed the hovering people away from her.
"I knew this would happen," Mrs. Thornton cried. "You should never have returned."
"You're speaking nonsense, mother. I simply fell down the stairs down at the mill." Something ab
out his face didn't look entirely convincing, though. His eyes were large, almost shocked. "It's just a little cut."
"We better see to that cut," Emmeline said.
"Fetch the doctor, Joseph." Mrs. Thornton ordered.
"Yes, madame," he replied and left.
"It will take an hour for him to get here," Percy added.
"That cut will need stitching. It won't stop bleeding. Head cuts never do. Here," Mrs. Thornton said, holding up her handkerchief.
"Let me," Emmeline said, grabbing the handkerchief and reaching up to press it to Percy's cut. Warm wetness seeped through under her fingers.
"Thank you, Miss Durrant," Percy said quietly.
"Perhaps you should sit down," she suggested.
"Take him to the parlor," Mrs. Thornton ordered.
Awkwardly, they moved in unison, Emmeline still pressing the handkerchief to Percy's cut and him wincing with the movement. Percy sat down on one of the large, cushioned chairs. Blood had soaked the shoulder of his white shirt. As Emmeline peeled back the handkerchief, she saw a gaping slit that welled anew with blood. It really did need the doctor to come stitch it.
"How did this happen?" Mrs. Thornton said, taking her usual seat and shifting uncomfortably.
Percy didn't answer. "It was the oddest thing," he started slowly after a while. "There was no one around. The mill was empty, but I swore I felt a hand on my back pushing me when I was at the top of the stairs."
Mrs. Thornton gasped and then made a high-pitched whine. "I knew it. I knew something like this would happen."
"I could have sworn someone pushed me, but there was no one there."
"It's the curse," Mrs. Thornton said.
"There's no such thing as a curse."
"I've been here," Mrs. Thornton said harshly, "seeing it act on one family member then the next. Don't tell me this curse isn't real. I have lost my family to this curse." Her pitch went even higher.
"Someone must have been there," Emmeline said.
"There was no one there."
"They must have been hiding."
"But who would do that?" Percy stated.
Emmeline didn't answer, but she assumed just about anyone on the estate.
"It was that devil," Mrs. Thornton declared sharply. "He wants our land, always has."
"Mother," Percy chided. "Lord Cresswell isn't trying to harm me."
"Yes, he is. You don't know what he's doing with his plantations. The slaves are not in his control in the least. Completely given himself over to them."
"Mother," Percy said again with exasperation.
"He is under their control."
Emmeline remained silent, listening to what was said. Mrs. Thornton did let her fears run away with her, but it was hard to tell how much of it was irrational. What she had seen with her own eyes was that the slaves at his plantation had appeared to mill around as they saw fit. The crop wasn't well managed.
"How could he be under anyone's control?" Percy challenged softly.
"That voodoo. They have cursed him and he can't resist what they want him to do."
"But he's rarely there," Emmeline said.
"Exactly. They send him away and he is powerless to resist."
"You're quite wrong, mother. There are no such thing as curses."
"Don't tell me there is no such thing. I have seen it act time and again, and today it acted upon you. Hand on your back. You didn't imagine that. They pushed you down the stairs, hoping you'd break your neck!" Mrs. Thornton rose from her chair and paced around the room. Distress dripped off her. "Why can't they leave us alone? Can't anyone help us?"
"You're being fanciful," Percy said, but Mrs. Thornton refused to be mollified.
"They won't be happy until they kill us all," she lamented.
A noise outside suggested that the doctor had arrived. It hadn't taken as long as expected. Joseph must have driven the horse hard.
A man with gray at his temples came and alleviated her from her duty, taking the handkerchief away to examine the wound. "Gaping, isn't it?" he said, almost with amusement. "A few stitches and it will be all sorted."
Mrs. Thornton kept pacing until Percy told her to sit down.
Emmeline retreated to the edge of the room, her mind spinning with the day's events. Had someone really tried to push him down the stairs? Was it spirits acting upon him like Mrs. Thornton said? Whether spirit or otherwise, someone was trying to harm Percy.
Mrs. Thornton made no more mention of her fears in front of the doctor, probably knowing that he would force her to take something calming that made her sleep the day away.
Percy winced with each stitch, but the gaping wound was soon closed, leaving only the aftermath of spilt blood and ruined clothes.
Mrs. Thornton saw the doctor out, where Joseph was waiting to take him back.
"Thank you for your calming influence," Percy said.
Emmeline smiled. "I'm not sure I have any influence over your mother."
Looking down, Percy twisted the soiled handkerchief between his fingers. "About the other night."
Feeling herself tense, Emmeline looked away.
"I am sorry if I acted inappropriately. I don't quite recall everything about the night, but I get the sense that I did act less than gentlemanly."
"I think a number of people had quite a bit to drink that night," she said.
"Not you, though."
"Not really my place, or my inclination."
Percy was watching her, but she kept her attention away. Actually, she didn't want to have this discussion at all, but she did appreciate the apology. It gave her some hope that her time here wouldn't be fraught with unwanted attention, forcing her to hide in her room every evening.
Mrs. Thornton reappeared in the parlor. "You must rest, Percy."
"I hardly need to rest."
"You must." Mrs. Thornton's voice was rising to such a shrill pitch of distress that Percy conceded, just to keep her calm.
"But only for an hour," he stated and rose.
They both retreated to their rooms, leaving Emmeline alone with her thoughts. Someone was trying to hurt Percy, which did give some credence to the idea that the deaths in this family weren't entirely coincidental. Was someone systematically doing away with the people here? Devils, the words of that old woman in the fields returned, teasing around her mind.
The uncomfortable thought made her rise and pace herself, except she sought the cool air of the veranda. The lush fields looked as they always did. On some level, she felt things should look different, but everything was as it should be. People were scattered across the fields with their small scythes, cutting canes for harvest.
Mr. Hart sat on his horse in the distance overseeing everything like he did most days. But with looking, there was another figure in the distance at the corner of the field. Dark hair was all she could see, but she knew the horse was the color of Lord Cresswell’s. Even at this distance, she could see that the figure sat straight in the saddle. What was he doing there, simply sitting and watching? Why was he here? Had he come from the mill where he had pushed Percy down the stairs?
As if noticing her attention, he turned sharply, and he and his horse disappeared into the jungle. That wasn't her imagination. He had been there, even if he now left no trace. Mr. Hart must not have seen him as he hadn't ridden over to greet the visitor. How could Mr. Hart not have seen him? He'd been right there—visible.
A perverse voice in her mind said he was visible only to the people he wanted to see him. Where had such ludicrous notions come from? But she had seen him. Why would he want her to see him? Was he trying to frighten her? If so, it was working. Every hair on her body stood painfully on end. And now he had disappeared as if never there at all, no one observing his presence other than her.
Chapter 19
Even though Percy had apologized for his behavior and treated her with utmost respect since, she still found his presence trying. It was as if she knew what lay beneath the polite exterior, and
it wasn't a kind and gentle soul. It wasn't as if he was particularly evil or anything like that, it was just that when his inhibitions had been down, he'd seen her as someone to use for his own pleasure.
On the surface, it was easy to gloss that over, but trust could never really be re-established and now she constantly wondered what he really thought beneath those cheery smiles. Was it only etiquette that kept him gentlemanly, and when would that etiquette fail again?
As much as possible, Emmeline stayed in her room or sat on the veranda. For some reason, being in the open felt safer than trapped behind walls—not that there was anyone around the house. The gardeners milled around occasionally, but they would not come to her rescue if Percy decided to act inappropriately. Mr. Hart was likely too far away to see.
With a sigh, Emmeline put her book down. Dusk was starting to color the sky and another evening lay ahead of her. Typically, they dined, then spent the evening in the parlor. Emmeline always excused herself before Mrs. Thornton, preferring not to spend time alone with Percy. It also pleased Mrs. Thornton, who still assumed that Emmeline would want to spend time alone with him.
Those accusing looks from Mrs. Thornton weren't easy to bear either. She could rest assured; Emmeline was not going to seduce her precious son.
As the evening grew darker, Emmeline returned to her room and prepared for supper. Out of habit, she closed the shutters as the darkness encroached. Unknown and even improbable unease sat like a lump in her chest—a discomfort she couldn't quite pin down. For a moment, she actually wished for company, to not be alone and afraid in a darkening room.
Shaking off the silly notion, she made her way out of her room, and as she walked, the figure of Lord Cresswell sitting on his horse at the very edge of the property returned to her. What had he been doing there? Had he been the one who had pushed Percy—unseen and seemingly spectral? She had seen him; he'd been there, plain as day.
Emmeline was quiet during supper, while Percy chatted about some conversation he'd had with Ronald Harstone, who had earlier been traveling by out by the road. Apparently, the royal navy had a few ships in town at the moment and all of Plymouth was overrun with mariners.
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